Fight For Life
by Cranky Mouseykins
Summary: (Rewrite - see A/N) Atem and his friends defeated Zorc; the darkness has disappeared. But Bakura's personal battle against the darkness, his challenge to understand his place among his friends and the fight for his own very life begins now with a diagnosis none of them saw coming.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** After 13+ years away from writing (2 jobs, 2 major computer crashes, "adulting," & life in general), I really wanted to get back to it. However, before I launch into finishing Revelation of a Nightmare or starting one of the other 2 - 3 stories I have rolling around inside my brain, I figured the best way to brush up my skills would be tackling a rewrite. I published this story a VERY LONG TIME AGO under a friend's account (because I did not have one of my own at the time). I'm updating it from the TAS timeline and setting it between TAS and DSoD, to include the retcon of Bakura's familial history (hence, huge swaths of the previous story have *poof* disappeared). Don't worry - some of our favorite Item Spirits - and _maybe_ an Ishtar - will make an appearance. I think. The timeline shift creates new challenges and major changes, and this story is starting to evolve and take a life of its own, _almost_ making it a completely new piece.

For those who favorited/followed/reviewed my previous stories - THANK YOU SO MUCH. Words cannot express the gratitude for the love I have received for those stories over the years. I do have a YYH/YGO piece queued next, hopefully satisfying both rabid fandoms.

Thanks for reading my story.

 **Disclaimer:** If I owned any of it, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction, would I? _Or would I?_ Just kidding - I don't own it.

* * *

The paper rustled beneath him as he nervously shifted his weight and absentmindedly kicked the edge of the examining table on which he sat. The hollow _thunk_ reverberated through the small space, startling him at first, then providing a compulsory distraction for a few moments, before losing its appeal. Murmurs carried on whispers from nearby rooms occasionally grazed his ear, but those small snatches of conversation nestled amongst the hum of the other background noise long enough to become indistinguishable. Which was just as well – he really shouldn't have been trying to eavesdrop anyway. Privacy concerns and all that. He was just so _bored_. And cold. Why were doctor's offices always so chilly?

Bakura clutched at the oversized, flimsy cotton gown hanging off his slight frame and wrapped his arms around himself for warmth. As instructed, he left it open in the front, but every movement – every breath – shifted the coarse fabric, and another blast of cold air slithered across his torso. The additional coverage provided by his socks and boxers did little to stave the chill. Or his self-consciousness. Or mounting anxiety.

A soft knock at the door announced the doctor's arrival.

"Come in," Bakura replied, straightening up and suppressing a shiver as a blast of cold air snaked through the arm hole.

Dr. Sumida, Bakura's physician, entered the room, his nose buried in Bakura's file. "I see you've lost some more weight since I saw you last," he commented, closing the folder and pushing his frameless glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Still having night sweats?"

"Not as much," Bakura vaguely offered, "but I've kind of been leaving the window open at night, so…"

The doctor offered a non-committal "hmm" while scanning the room. "You didn't bring anyone with you?" he frowned reproachfully, peering at his patient over the rim of his glasses.

"Like who?"

Sighing, the doctor set the file on the nearby countertop. He was well aware of the young man's… _circumstances_ …and had been his physician for years, as well as the family's physician prior, but wished the boy had heeded his recommendation to bring an adult – _any_ adult – with him for this particular appointment. "Technically, you're still a minor…" he began, trailing off and deciding against the compulsory lecture, witnessing Bakura flush nervously and bristle at his words. He wasn't a disobedient kid, after all, just… _alone._ Besides, they had already had this conversation during Bakura's last four visits. "But all things considering…well, at least you're here," Sumida continued. The young man had been reluctant to keep this appointment and miss more school, "let's have a look…"

Dr. Sumida peeled back the right side or Bakura's gown and gently pressed against his chest to lay him down on the examining table. He swept the teenager's hair aside and lifted his arm above his head. Bakura folded his free arm against his stomach, shivering more from the doctor's penetrating, clinical gaze than the introduction of more cold air against his skin.

"Does anybody know you're here?" the doctor inquired, snapping on a pair of latex gloves and straddling the rolling stool next to the examining table.

"Maybe the Trust? I dunno…I guess prob—" Bakura gasped and bit his lip as the doctor removed the sizeable, sticky bandage underneath his arm.

"Mmmm…hmm…still sore?"

Bakura cringed again, nodding as Dr. Suminda prodded further. "Your hands are cold." His comment went largely ignored, as the doctor continued to poke the small wound and felt the area around it.

"I see…the fact you're ticklish has nothing to do with it, correct?" Dr. Sumida's eyes twinkled – more so when the teen blushed furiously. The heat continued rising to his cheeks and Bakura turned his head away from the doctor as the older man continued his examination over the next few minutes, kneading and pressing his fingers against his neck, armpits, and…Bakura choked back a yelp, feeling a bit… _violated…_ as the doctor checked a few more…personal…areas to finish his assessment. He offered an apologetic smile. "Well, everything looks ok, relatively speaking. A few new bruises, but I don't see any infection, nor feel any new lumps. Let's remove these stitches."

Dr. Sumida rolled his stool backwards, grabbed a small pair of scissors from a nearby instrument tray and snipped through the threads. Bakura involuntarily shuddered as he felt the strands pulled through his skin. Sumida hastily taped a fresh bandage to the wound. "Keep it clean and covered a few more days – just in case." He placed a hand under the young man's shoulder and grasped his hand, easing him back up to a sitting position. Bakura pulled the hospital gown across his chest and prepared to dismount the examining table to re-dress. "Don't get dressed yet," the doctor ordered. He poked his head outside the room, and nodded to someone outside of Bakura's vision.

A second doctor entered the room, acknowledging the teenager with a sort of passive, bland smile. He was older, balder and fatter than Dr. Sumida. And even shorter than Bakura, who wasn't all that tall himself. "Bakura Ryou, this is Dr. Otawara Tatsumi. Remember during your last visit we talked about getting another doctor – a specialist – to look at your results and maybe come in to chat with you? Fortunately, Dr. Tatsumi had some time available in his schedule to come down here today…"

Bakura nodded suspiciously, "yeah…"

"I had him review your file. He's an oncologist…"

"Oncologist…" Bakura rolled the unfamiliar word around his tongue. _Oncologist…oncologist…_ he turned it over in his head, waiting for it to click.

Once it did, he wished it hadn't.

He realized he was sick…but not _that sick._ Was he? It was just supposed to be the latest crop of mono going around the school…or something…he wasn't sure…the tests…they were just supposed to be a precaution, right? Bakura started feeling numb…vaguely nauseated….

"He's one of the best in the field," Dr. Sumida continued, "and he's my brother-in-law, so I know you'll be in really good hands…"

"No…" Bakura involuntarily moaned, swaying slightly.

Dr. Sumida saw the young man blanch and quickly placed a steadying, comforting hand on his shoulder, "Bakura…Ryou…" he lowered his voice to an almost fatherly tone. "We ran the biopsy twice. The CT scan confirms it. It's Hodgkin's Disease. We need to start treatment."

Bakura swallowed thickly, a tight knot rising in his throat. "Hodgkin's…" he choked, his mind racing. _Hodgkin's…_

 _Lymphoma…_

 _Cancer…_

One of the kids in his old school – a senior in Class A a few years ahead of him – had cancer a year or so ago. He didn't really know the guy – couldn't even remember his name, in fact – but knew he missed a lot of school. And then one day he was gone.

Would he, too, just disappear like that?

Bakura blinked once, then several more times in rapid succession – a mixture of shock and suppressing tears – as the diagnosis began to register.

"Am I gonna die?" he whimpered.

"We'll do everything we can to ensure that does not happen," Sumida tightened his reassuring grip on the boy.

"Your prognosis is 'cautiously optimistic,'" Dr. Otawara stepped forward, producing a new file, and placing it in the trembling teen's hands.

"Hodgkin's has a very high survival rate in young people – 90…95% - and we caught it early. With aggressive treatment – "

 _Aggressive treatment._ Bakura nodded mechanically as the first tears broke through, landing with sharp slaps on the new folder and marring its crisp surface. He felt lightheaded…fuzzy…like someone had wrapped a thick towel around his head, dulling his senses. The more Otawara droned on about the treatment plan, the more he wanted to crawl inside his own mind and avoid the overwhelming amount of information lobbed his direction. Scant fragments registered like dull scratches on the surface of his brain. Chemo port… ( _how many?_ ) rounds ( _did he say 10?_ ) … various medications he'd never be able to remember ( _what's a cytokine?_ ) … Thursday…

"Wait… _this_ Thursday?" his attention snapped back into the conversation. Today was Tuesday.

"Of course," Dr. Otawara pressed, "the sooner we begin – "

He had a math test on Friday.

"but school…" Bakura balked weakly.

"—can wait," Sumida interrupted, giving the young man a gentle squeeze. "Ryou, this cannot."

"Your very life depends on it."

* * *

Anzu elbowed Yugi as they patrolled the roof at lunch time, looking for the rest of their friends. "Hey, there's Bakura…I'm sure Jonouchi and Honda aren't far behind."

"Bakura?" Yugi glanced in the direction Anzu pointed. Sure enough, Bakura was propped on the ledge against the fence, flipping through a folder and eating an apple. "Huh…He wasn't in homeroom this morning. I thought maybe he was out sick again today."

"He showed up about halfway through second period," Anzu explained, dragging Yugi behind her, "ugh…that math test. It was brutal. The teacher held him after class to finish it. I don't know that he even made it to third period gym. You'd have to ask Jonouchi or Honda."

"Wow…" Yugi felt badly for Bakura – as much as Bakura disliked gym class, he hated missing classes even more – he had been out sick yesterday, and late or out sick quite a bit the last few weeks, "he's been out a lot. I wonder…Hey Bakura!" he called, waving to get his friend's attention.

Bakura glanced up from his reading, mid-bite. He held the apple in place with his teeth, snapped the folder shut and crammed it into his messenger bag. He gestured them over with one hand, using the other to cover his mouth while he finished chewing. "Sorry," he apologized, swallowing a mouthful.

Anzu shrugged off the apology – at least Bakura _had_ manners and tried not to speak with his mouth full. Unlike some of their _other_ friends.

"Whatcha reading?" Yugi craned his neck to glance at the folder Bakura had stashed in his satchel.

"Oh…nothing important," he feigned a dismissive wave, kicking the bag shut and tossing the apple core in a nearby trash bin.

"Is that all you brought for lunch?" Anzu frowned, starting to poke around in her bento box.

"I'm not hungry," Bakura leaned further into the fence. Anzu thought he looked a little paler than usual – his skin almost the color and transparency of paper. She made a mental note to ask him about it later; it wasn't unusual for Bakura to get caught up in creating his Monster World campaigns and neglect other aspects of his life – like sleep and food. _Someone_ needed to remind him of that every once in a while.

"You sure?" Yugi asked, tearing into his own lunch, "I'm starving! You want some?" he thrust half his sandwich in front of Bakura's face.

"Thanks, but I'm good," Bakura politely declined.

"Ok. Suit yourself."

"Hey, hey! What's up?" Honda greeted, bounding into view with Jonouchi trailing a few steps behind.

"Man, that test _sucked_ ," Jonouchi griped, flopping onto the ground between Yugi and Bakura's leg and rummaging around in his bookbag for his lunch. "Isn't that right, Bakura?" he playfully smacked Bakura's shin.

Bakura flinched. "It was ok, I guess. I don't think I did that well."

"Seriously?" Jonouchi sputtered, his mouth full of food, "Oh man…if you don't think you did well, then I'm really screwed!"

"So what else is new?" Honda snickered.

"Hey! Who asked you?"

Anzu and Yugi busied themselves with their drinks to avoid snorting out loud, and even Bakura managed a slight smile.

A cell phone chimed; four of the five teenagers dove for their bookbags, rummaging for their phones. "Mine," Bakura confirmed, producing a small silver phone and hitting the answer key. "Hello?" he hesitantly answered.

"Who?" Anzu mouthed at the other boys; she had never seen Bakura answer his phone before (mostly, he played games on it during lunch), much less take a call at school. Her inquiry was met with silent shrugs.

Noting their curious stares, Bakura excused himself and withdrew from the group, turning his back and hunching his shoulders for a bit of privacy. Honda, standing closest to Bakura caught snippets of the conversation, but nothing useful to pass along to the others. "Uh-huh…ok…" Bakura sighed, gloom overtaking his features. "Yes…n-no…of course," he stammered, "ok. Bye."

"What was that all about?" Jonouchi tactlessly blurted, earning an elbow from Anzu, as Bakura hung up his phone and slid it into the pocket of his pants. "Ow! What?"

"Nothing," Bakura quickly – too quickly – replied, seizing his bag and shouldering it. His eyes refused to meet theirs. "Um…I really need to get going...bathroom and all, before class starts." Without waiting for an answer, he waved and hastily disappeared among the rest of their classmates loitering on the rooftop.

"Huh. I wonder what that was about," Anzu mused, her voice touched with worry.

"No idea," Yugi's response echoed Anzu's concern.

"Well, whatever it is, it smells fishy," Jonouchi sniffed.

"Nah, that's just you. You really should shower better after gym class."

"Oh! Look who's suddenly a comedian. Screw you, Honda."

The class bell put an end to further bickering. Or speculation. But just in case, Yugi promised himself to chat with Bakura after school.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Sorry for the super-short chapter; I was going to post a second (new) scene with it, but I'm in the process of adding another (new) scene to that one, and it just made more sense to post this bit as a stand-alone chapter. Actually, it probably would been better to post this with the _previous_ chapter, but hindsight and all... Methinks I'm overthinking/overworking what should be a simple rewrite.

Thanks for taking time to read.

 **Disclaimer:** "Fanfiction" pretty much sums it up; "fan" = doesn't belong to me

* * *

When the class bell rang, Bakura bolted for the door. Last in, first out. Normally, it was the other way around – Bakura usually took his time and exited last (unless Jonouchi or Honda were being held after class) – only adding to Yugi's suspicion that something was amiss. "C'mon, Yug," Jonouchi hurriedly waved Yugi to follow, apparently thinking the same.

By the time they reached the door, Bakura had rushed halfway down the hall. "Hey Bakura! Wait up!" Yugi called after him. Bakura shot back an apologetic glance, but kept moving forward. The slip of a boy easily maneuvered through the growing crowd as more students poured out of their lessons.

"What's going on with him?" Anzu caught up with Yugi and Jonouchi, Honda jogging alongside.

"I dunno…but he's clearly avoiding us," Yugi didn't bother hiding the disappointment in his voice.

"Damn, for someone who misses so much gym class, he sure is fast," Jonouchi griped.

But he was also clumsy. No sooner had the words left Jonouchi's lips than Bakura stumbled over his own two feet and collided with a burly student emerging from the restroom. "Hey!" the student snarled, turning on Bakura.

Jonouchi's eyes widened. "Not good," he hissed. Bakura had bumped Kojima Tatsuo, one of the school's most notorious thugs.

"Oh no…" Anzu moaned, "he's been on a tear since Mieko-chan broke up with him last week."

"Let's go," Jonouchi practically dragged Yugi behind him.

"Watch where you're going, you little shit!" Kojima bellowed, grabbing Bakura by the lapels of his jacket. Several buttons popped and skittered down the aisle.

"I didn't see you…I…I'm sorry," Bakura stammered, trying to squirm past, as three more of Kojima's friends materialized next to him.

"Yeah?" Kojima leered mere centimeters from Bakura's face, "Not as sorry as you're gonna be." He spun Bakura around and slammed his back against the wall with a sickening thud. Bakura blanched and dropped his books, much to the delight of Kojima's cronies. The raucous after-school bustle suddenly died as students gathered to gawk at the commotion or hastily exited the building to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

"Please…I'm going…"

"You're going to **be** **sore** , is what you're gonna be," Kojima growled, crashing Bakura into the wall again for added emphasis, and knocking the wind out of the smaller teen. Bakura struggled to regain his feet, grasping desperately at the meaty hands twisting into his collar. "Now say 'I'm very sorry _Kojima-sama_ , how can I make it up to you?' and I might let you off easy by only making you bow down to lick my shoes, you little twerp. Say it!" He violently shook Bakura, flashing a wicked grin at his buddies, who sniggered their approval in return.

Jonouchi saw red – literally. "How about you pick on somebody your own size?" he challenged, breaking through the crowd and pulling Kojima off of Bakura. Bakura sank to the ground as Jonouchi stepped between him and the bully, shoving Kojima backwards towards his goons. Yugi knelt beside Bakura, helping gather his books.

"Like you?" Kojima sneered.

Jonouchi drew himself to his full height. "Yeah – if you think you can handle it, tough-guy," he glared, taking a mental count of Kojima and his pals. Four. Not good. But…not bad, either – he had been in worse scrapes before. And with Honda pulling up the rear…two against four. Almost an unfair fight – for those guys.

One of Kojima's companions whispered something in his ear and his eyes narrowed. "Jonouchi," his lip curled in contempt. But Jonouchi saw the almost imperceptible transformation behind the snarl – the way the pupils dilated, the slight uptick in his respiration, the quickening pulse of the vein in his neck. Jonouchi's reputation as a street tough preceded him. This fight was over before it even began; Kojima had already lost.

Kojima's eyes darted between Jonouchi and Bakura, weighing his options. "You ain't worth it, sissy-boy," he hissed and spat at Bakura's feet, waving his friends to follow as he stalked down the hall in search of easier prey.

"You ok?" Jonouchi offered a hand to Bakura, who was already shakily clambering to his feet.

"Sorry," Bakura mumbled, eyes downcast. He clutched his books against his torn jacket, shying away from his friends.

"No apologies needed. Hey…" Jonouchi reached out to touch him, but withdrew as Bakura flinched. "You don't look so hot…"

"I'm ok. Thanks." Bakura dodged, offered a quick bow and slipped away again.

"What's with him? You don't think…" Honda mulled.

"The spirit?" Anzu gulped.

"I don't think that's possible," Yugi swallowed hard. "Atem –" the mere mention of his name sent a pang through Yugi's heart. "Atem defeated him. We all did. If the spirit were back, I'd think…well…maybe Atem would be back too…" His voice echoed with longing. "Oh! Bakura forgot this…" Yugi desperately changed the subject, noting he still grasped a textbook in his hand.

Jonouchi gently pried Bakura's book from Yugi's hands. "Why don't you give Marik a call and see if anybody has been poking around the ruins. You know…just in case. I'll get this to Bakura and catch up with you guys later tonight."

After all, he knew what he saw. And he and Bakura were going to have a talk.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** These two scenes were not in the original story, so it took me longer to arrive at a point where I would stop tinkering with it and just post what I had. There's actually more to the last scene, but I decided to push it into the next chapter instead, and combine with another new scene. The more I putter with this story, the more it evolves into something almost entirely new. So I apologize if the updates take longer than anticipated.

A special thank you to those who have reviewed/favorited/followed this story. Your feedback means a lot to me.

 **Disclaimer:** Still don't own it. Not quite sure even the inspiration for the story is mine since it's rattled around in my head for so long :)

* * *

 _BANG._ _BANG._ _BANG._

"Bakura! You home? Open up!" Jonouchi's voice brayed on the other side of the door, jolting Bakura awake. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm as the pounding in his head subsided slightly, startled at the fresh wetness tracking down his cheeks. He didn't realize he had been crying in his sleep. Again.

"One moment," he groaned, rolling off the couch from his impromptu – and all too short – nap. Pins and needles prickled up his legs, buckling his knees. His attempt to brace himself met stiff resistance and the sudden flailing of his arms tugged as his new incision. He hissed sharply at both the fire erupting across his torso and the resulting crash to the floor.

Jonouchi heard the dull thud. "You ok?...Bakura?"

"'…fine…thanks…" came the faint reply. "…Sec…" A bit closer that time. The metallic scrape, clink and thunk behind the door indicated Bakura's arrival as he unlocked his safety chain and deadbolt. The door cracked open, and one bleary eye peered from the darkened apartment into the overly bright hallway. It reminded Jonouchi of the first day they met Bakura – the skittish teenager hiding behind the thick door, shuttering himself from the world for his protection. Or rather, for the world's protection from _him._

"Hey," Jonouchi nodded his greeting. "Sorry to bug you…but…uh you dropped this…" he slipped Bakura's book through the narrow opening.

Bakura's eyes widened and brightened slightly as he accepted the textbook. "Oh! Thank you, Jonouchi," his gratitude – as always – sincere. He opened the door a little wider. "I didn't realize I forgot it."

Seeing Bakura's drawn and slightly unkempt appearance, Jonouchi questioned the wisdom in keeping him longer. He wanted to talk to him about what he observed, but perhaps now wasn't the time. _Don't invite me in…_

For his part, Bakura felt badly – Jonouchi lived halfway across town and probably traveled several bus stops out of his way to deliver the book. He turned it over in his hands pensively. He wasn't feeling up to visitors, but he didn't want to be _rude._ _Don't say "yes…"_

 _Don't invite me in._

 _Don't say "yes."_

"Do you want to come in? Maybe have a cup of tea?"

"Sure."

 _Dammit!_

Jonouchi stepped inside the dimly lit apartment and closed the door behind him, watching Bakura drop the book on the floor next to his satchel and pad towards the kitchen. He nervously thrust his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet to toe off his shoes. Even though he knew it wasn't intentional – Bakura was naturally quiet and somewhat reserved in comparison to the rest of the group – he didn't like the awkward silence hanging between them. When confronted with silence, he usually blurted out the first – and often insensitive – thing on his mind. "So…what kind of cancer is it?"

Bakura froze, fear draining all feeling from his body and rooting him in place, "Huh?" He quickly regained his composure and feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about," Bakura tossed a glance over his shoulder, plastering a placid smile on his face.

His eyes met Jonouchi's unwavering gaze. It pierced right through his façade and sent a cold shiver scurrying up his spine. The smile faltered. "I spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals visiting Shizuka when she was going blind. I saw a lot of really sick kids." Jonouchi tapped his collarbone for emphasis, "I know what a chemo port looks like. And I saw the incision from yours when Kojima ripped your jacket."

Bakura's eyes cut away to the floor. "It's nothing," he weakly mumbled.

"It's _cancer_ , Bakura."

"Jonouchi… _please_ …" he began to tremble.

"Please? What?"

"Please… _don't…_ "

"Don't what?"

"Don't…say…" Bakura begged, choking back a whimper.

"Say what? _Cancer?_ " As soon as the word left his lips, he regretted it; Bakura recoiled as if Jonouchi had physically struck him. "That's…that's really it…isn't it?" Jonouchi stammered. He _suspected_ , but somehow saying it out loud – not to mention Bakura's reaction – made it more _real._ How bad? How long had Bakura known? "Why didn't you tell us?" he advanced on Bakura, his frustration and concern mounting. "Don't you trust us?"

Bakura's eyes went wide and his lip quivered. "No!...Yes!...I mean…" He looked confused…then suddenly devastated by the accusation. "I…I…" Words failed. Bakura raked his fingers through his hair and buried his face in his hands. Silent tears tracked down his cheeks.

Too little too late, Jonouchi realized he sounded more angry than concerned, as his brittle friend pulled away from him. _Crap_. Anzu or Yugi – hell, even Honda – would have handled that better. What would they do? What would they _say_ to make this better? Was that even possible?

"Bakura –" he sighed, carefully hedging closer.

"I…just…I don't want to hurt you…any of you—"

"Hurt _us_? –"

"After everything _he_ did –" Bakura's fingers fluttered to his arm, tracing the scar under his sleeve. Jonouchi recognized the compulsion – he had seen it hundreds of times the last few months. Yugi groping for the puzzle no longer hanging around his neck; Bakura fingering the scar along his arm. One a habit of yearning; the other, regret.

Jonouchi reached out, firmly grasping Bakura by his shoulders, and bending slightly to meet his eyes. Bakura guiltily avoided his stare. " _You._ Are. Not. _Him_."

"But—"

"But nothing. We're your _friends._ After all we've been through, you think it doesn't hurt us that you're avoiding us? Or you won't tell us that something's wrong? Or, worse – if you just up and disappeared one day and we didn't know why? We're _worried_. We want to help." Maybe not as eloquent as Anzu, but good enough. Jonouchi internally scoffed – a year ago, he would ridiculed her about her flowery "power of friendship" speeches; now he practically channeled them.

Bakura bit his lower lip. "You shouldn't have to deal with this. You don't deserve it."

"Neither do you."

"I do," Bakura uttered the barest whisper of a response.

"Wait… _what?!_ " Jonouchi's mouth dropped. _The hell…?_

"It's true," Bakura heaved a sigh and shook off Jonouchi's hands. "I feel like I deserve this. You know, as punishment. Like karma or something. I put the Millennium Ring on. People got hurt. And I still kept it – I didn't...didn't get rid of it," his words started tumbling out of his mouth, "It's my fault he took control then got out of control and more people got hurt—"

"Don't you dare think—"

"If only I had tried harder. Thrown the stupid thing away. Fought more. Not listened to his promises—" Bakura spilled into barely suppressed sobs, frantic despair fueling his flawed logic and spiraling him further down the rabbit hole. "He said he'd help, but he didn't. I should have known. If I had been smarter…stronger—"

"Bakura!" Jonouchi seized the young man again, fighting the urge to shake some sense into him, "it took six priests, a pharaoh and a shit-ton of dark magic just to seal him away the first time. It took all of that, plus _us_ to get rid of him again—"

"But I wasn't there!" Bakura's bitterly cried out, his tears finally erupting into open, heart-wrenching sobs. "I wasn't _good enough_ …couldn't help…Yugi…Atem…" His breathing hitched, desperately trying to suppress the crying jag beginning to wrack his exhausted frame. "Couldn't…fight… _him…_ couldn't help…then…and…now… _this_ …I can't...I can't…no more…" Bakura's words trailed into drained whimpers and his chin dropped wearily against his chest as the tears continued to fall.

 _Shit._

Jonouchi's hands slipped off Bakura's shoulders and trailed down his arms. "Yeah…ok…you weren't there…but…but it's ok…" His words faltered momentarily, attempting to grasp something other than vague platitudes with which to comfort his friend. He reached Bakura's hands. They were shaking. Cold. Then he felt _it._ The answer. "You weren't there, because you had already beaten him once." Jonouchi clasped Bakura's left hand, his thumb tracing the thick, jagged scar along Bakura's palm. "You beat him. By yourself. With one hand tied behind your back – literally."

Bakura blinked, his tears subsiding, as Jonouchi's words cut through the dense fog of hopelessness that had been consuming him the past few weeks – too much information, guilt, and doubt slinking into every crevice of his mind; fear sinking its icy talons deep into his bones; and loneliness siphoning his strength from the very depths of his soul. So much so that he couldn't think straight, couldn't lift an arm to claw his way out of his self-imposed isolation and misery. And here was Jonouchi, with his usual reckless abandon, pummeling everything in his path and punching through the gloom to save Bakura from himself.

Jonouchi witnessed the faintest glimmer of reason – and maybe hope – finally lighting Bakura's soft, dark eyes.

"You. Beat. Him," Jonouchi carefully repeated, "just like you will beat this."

"Only, this time, you won't have to fight alone."

* * *

 **Honda's here.** **U on ur way?**

 _Still Bakuras._ _U guys go w/o me._

 **Bring him w/u! :) I wanted 2 invite him 2.**

 _Gonna b a while._ _Go ahead._

 **…**

 **Everything ok?**

Everything certainly was **not** ok, but at least Bakura had calmed down considerably. Or maybe just worn himself out. Besides, Jonouchi didn't want to worry Yugi. And it wasn't his place to inform them of Bakura's condition, anyway. Bakura needed to do that himself, when he was ready.

 _Yeah, catch u l8tr._ _Have fun!_

Jonouchi pocketed his phone as Bakura returned from the kitchen, balancing a serving tray in his hands. He was still amazed at how quickly Bakura regained his composure from a few moments earlier, excusing himself and retreating to the kitchen to putter around and prepare the promised tea. _Then again, he's had…years?...of practice._

In addition to the teapot and cups (a matching set, no less), Bakura supplied an assortment of pre-packaged cookies, arranged on a plate. "Aw…you didn't have to go to all that trouble, Bakura," Jonouchi balked.

"I don't mind," Bakura smiled gently, though the smile didn't quite touch the corners of his tired, red-rimmed eyes. "It gives me something to do." He handed a steaming mug to Jonouchi before retreating to the far corner of the couch with his own tea, tucking his knees against his chest and curling his pale fingers around the warm cup. He blew on the hot liquid.

Jonouchi tentatively sipped his own drink, suppressing a grimace. A little too sweet. _Bakura._ _Figures._ He smirked. Casting a sideways glance at the teen, he took stock of Bakura's appearance – already a wisp of a boy (and, Jonouchi believed, the youngest in their circle of friends), maybe he did look a bit thinner than usual – but then again, his buttoned-up clothes usually hung off of him. He may have been more pale than normal…hair a little duller. Bakura looked up and caught Jonouchi staring – his eyes, much like his hair, had lost their luster. "Do you want to talk about it?" Jonouchi ventured, grabbing a second cookie from the tray.

"Not really," Bakura stared pensively into his cup. He had yet to take a sip of his tea. "No…yes…I don't know…"

"Ok." Given Bakura's recent outburst, Jonouchi decided against pressing the issue. They sat in mutual silence, drinking their tea and munching on the crumbly cookies. Jonouchi was on his fourth by the time Bakura had unenthusiastically nibbled halfway through his first.

Bakura sighed deeply. "Hodgkin's," he finally admitted.

"Huh?" Jonouchi sputtered a mouthful of cookie, not sure he heard Bakura speak over the sound of his own chewing.

"Hodgkin's Disease. Lymphoma."

He'd heard of it. Jonouchi's mouth dried up and the cookie seemed to turn to concrete. He swallowed hard. "Oh. I see." Now that Bakura opened up a little bit, countless questions began flooding his mind. However, he did not want to upset his fragile friend again, so against his nature, he forcibly pushed them back down. Except one. "How bad?"

Bakura shrugged. "They use words like 'cautiously optimistic,'" he rolled his eyes. "It's a nice way of not telling you you're _not_ going to die, because you still might, but not telling you that you will die, until they tell you you're terminal, at which point it's too late to do anything anyway." Uncharacteristic bitterness tinged his voice, a departure from his usual amiable nature, alarming Jonouchi slightly. Even during Battle City, when he had been possessed, stabbed, nearly struck dead by a God Card, and pawned in a Shadow Game, he recovered relatively quickly, his kind, optimistic personality back to normal within a few days. _He must really be hurting…_

"Bakura," he lowered his voice, hesitant to ask, "are you in pain?"

Bakura pulled his knees closer to his chest. One of his hands relinquished its hold on his tea cup and lightly traced the chemo pump under his shirt. "A little," he quietly confessed, "but more from the procedures, blood work and that sort of stuff. They give me medication to manage it, but it just makes me tired." He took another shaky sip of his drink. "I read the chemo side effects can be bad…" A hint of fear replaced his cynicism and his eyes grew distant.

"So…when's your first treatment?"

"Tuesday…"

"Wow…um…do…do you want me to come with you?"

"Huh?" Bakura's full attention shifted back to Jonouchi. "Oh no, no, thank you, that's very kind, but it's ok – I don't want you to miss any school and get in trouble. The school already knows, so they're working with me on my classwork and grades. No offense, I doubt they'd be so accommodating for you," he smiled wryly.

"Fair enough," Jonouchi smirked back. Bakura practically tripped over himself with such politeness that even the mild jab came off as little more than an ordinary observation. However, had Honda said it, they'd probably be scrapping on the floor at this point. "Well, at least your dad will be there, right?"

Bakura blinked, clearly puzzled. "My father?" his brows knit together, "he's not here."

Jonouchi remembered Bakura explaining to them the first day they met that he lived alone – in fact, he was slightly jealous that Bakura had this sweet apartment to himself, especially in comparison to his own shabby living arrangements with his old man. He even said as much. "I know you don't live with your dad, but he'll still go to your appointments with you, right?"

"Well…no…he's gone."

"Seriously?" Granted, Jonouchi's dad hardly qualified as "Father of the Year," and even Yugi's dad spent most of his time in America on business, but he bet either of them would be right beside their sons if they were in Bakura's situation. "I can't believe he's not coming home to be here for you."

"I don't think you understand," Bakura murmured, finishing his tea and setting the empty cup on the serving tray.

"What's not to understand? He should **_be here_**." He found it difficult to keep the rising anger out of his voice.

Bakura just shook his head and somberly rose to his feet. "Come with me." He beckoned Jonouchi to follow him down the hall towards the bedrooms.

Jonouchi drained the last dregs of his drink and set it aside to trail Bakura. He was disturbingly all-too familiar with the first room in the corridor and hoped they were skipping it. Chancing a glance into the room as they walked by, he noted it looked largely untouched since his last visit - except the Monster World table lay under a sheet. Half completed figurines, small hand-held carving tools and splattered paint cluttered a rough work bench residing next to Bakura's tidy study desk, computer, and bookshelf. Along the far wall, the curio of Monster World miniatures with their soulless (he hoped) eyes stared him down as he passed. Jonouchi involuntarily shuddered and took a quick half step forward to catch up with Bakura.

Next came the bath. Even in the darkened room, Jonouchi perceived the shadowy silhouettes of a startling number of prescription bottles lined up on the sink. He cringed – no wonder Bakura ate so little lately – he doubted even he'd have much of an appetite after cramming that much medication into his system and choking down the water needed to swallow all of it.

The last door was closed. Bakura's hand hovered over the knob. "Sorry, my room's a bit of a mess right now," he apologized before turning the handle and swinging open the door. Jonouchi suspected Bakura's "bit of a mess" would qualify as his "immaculate." Bakura flipped on the light; he was not mistaken. Other than a slightly rumpled, unmade bed and open closet door, Bakura's room was neater than Jonouchi's had ever been in his lifetime. Tastefully simple, decorated in pale blues and subdued grays with splashes of navy and a chunky sea-green throw tossed on the foot of the bed, it felt very soothing, cozy and, just…so…Bakura.

Jonouchi followed Bakura over the threshold into the bedroom. A powder-soft, woodsy aroma wafted to his nose. He didn't recall Bakura wearing any sort of cologne…

His eyes followed Bakura's movement to a small, satiny maple table tucked into one of the room's corners; it seemed a little more ornate and out of sync with the rest of the décor.

Bakura knelt in front of the table and began tenderly arranging the contents. Jonouchi drew closer to examine them. Two white candles. Recently extinguished incense. A plate of oranges. Partially wilted flowers in a slender vase. A carefully folded letter emblazoned with Bakura's elegant handwriting.

Three little Monster World figurines bearing a striking resemblance to Bakura.

Three photos. Father. Mother. Sister.

"Jonouchi, meet my family."


End file.
